#dark hotd

♱ You come from a long line of stubborn men, yet many counted you among the lucky young ladies of the Realm because your father had such a soft spot for you that he was quite literally not able to tell you no. You have men and women alike bending to your will by the time you're eight years old, despite not being overly bossy or cocky. You could bat your pretty eyes at your father or mother and they would give you the moon.

Your husband is not immune to your charms, either.

Aegon, who meets you shortly after the incident on Driftmark after you become friends with his sister. Helaena has few friends, many not understanding how her spirit worked, but you would quietly listen to her list out her prophecies. It didn't take long for you to take permanent residency in Kings Landing, becoming one of Helaena's ladies.

♱ As her brother, Aegon often finds himself drawn to Helaena. She is odd, yet amusing. His time in Helaena's chambers only increase after you come around.

Aegon flits from the gardens to the kitchens to the halls, wherever you may be. He follows you like a duckling having imprinted on you, and Alicent quickly takes notice.

Perhaps wanting to avoid marrying off her only daughter, Alicent convinces the King to betroth you and Aegon, and your own father has little room to argue.

♱ Aegon, despite popular rumors that flooded Court, isn't necessarily a cruel husband. Not when you knew how to work him.

You were raised with the knowledge that all men were weak. Weak to power, money, and especially women. Especially their wives. Many would have you believe that perhaps a Targaryen was exempt from this truth, but you find that Aegon is much the same. It didn't matter that he had a dragon, nor that he was a prince learning to be king despite his own father's stubbornness.

Aegon was weak for you.

♱ This all is not to say that you are a manipulative woman striving for power, but Aegon is as easy as a whole begging for coin. Show him the smallest bit of love, genuine love, and he's completely soft in your hands.

And when you finally give him children???

Aegon is lost in his infatuation for you.

Me trying to manifest George to drop more info on House Celtigar

The parchment in your hands brings news of dread, the familiar handwriting of your mother causing your stomach to flip dangerously.

'I regret to inform you that your father was taken by the Stranger as of last night.

Viserys expressed his wish for your brother to succeed him, though, as we all know, Princess Rhaenyra and her husband will dispute this with all their might. Mistakes were made in the hours following your father's death, ones made in the youthful naivete fueled by a want of revenge.

The Hand has done his best to keep it quiet, but news from Storm's End has already traveled quickly. Aemond has caused havoc that cannot be redeemed. With the death of one of her children, Rhaenyra will surely seek to strike back at us.

I fear you are no longer safe in Oldtown, My Sweet Daughter, and urge you to mount Silversmoke and return home at once.

The Dowager Queen,

Alicent Hightower'

Your fingers tremble as you crush the parchment, rising from your chair to toss it in the glowing hearth of your chamber. Your breath is quick; the feeling of anxiety mixed with suffocation has swallowed you whole. The grief of learning your father was dead had been enough, but the promise of war had caused a certain coldness to settle in your bones.

You glance at the little boy who played and babbled on the floor, your son, and you know that his life could be forfeit during this war. He was not Ormund's heir, but he was your child. The one you labored for two days to deliver, the one you loved with every fiber of your being.

Aelyx would be the target of those you called family.

The door opens suddenly, and you flinch as your husband enters the space, his brows stiff.

"You received word from her Grace?"

Ormund's question is swift, leaving you no room to deny or avoid it.

"Aemond has done something grave," You begin to say, looking at your husband with wide, terrified eyes. Ormund was leagues older than you, yet he asked Alicent and Viserys for your hand. The man had been old enough to be your father, yet you would have done anything to get away from King's Landing. You had been under no pressure to provide an heir, yet your loneliness had left you desperate for one. "My mother asks for me to return to the Red Keep; she does not believe that I am-"

"That you are safe here?"

Ormund's tone is louder than you are used to. He never raised his voice at you, always gentle when handling you, as though you were a little bird in his large hands. You recognize the look in his eye; the same look he would give your other suitors while you were still being courted by him. His possessive nature was that of a holy one; you had always known this.

"Husband,"

"Moira, please bring Aelyx to the nursery," Ormund allows your servant to enter the room. He picks up the two-year-old, bouncing him slightly before handing him over to the maid. The boy babbles sadly, his big brown eyes darting to you as he makes grabby hands in your direction.

Your heart throbs as Ormund closes the large mahogany door behind the servant, your boy whining as he could no longer see you.

"Why did you do that?"

The question leaves you shortly after Ormund turns around to face you.

"You will not be leaving Oldtown."

Ormund speaks with such finality that it causes you to second-guess yourself.

He towers over you, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. Ormund's thumbs stroke over the soft skin of your cheeks, a gentle smile pulling at his lips as he glances down at you.

"I love you," Ormund muses, and you can feel the threat of tears starting to well up in your eyes. Despite the age difference, you found much comfort in Ormund Hightower. You had married him out of affection, not out of any political advantage. Your mother trusted him, as did the Hand. Your father, of all people, had agreed to the match. "I worship you, as you well know. Despite how I may feel about them."

Ormund held no love for your house, you knew. You could not say you blamed him, but it hadn't stopped him from courting you, nor marrying you and having a child with you.

"My love for you is holy, something to be coveted. I must protect it."

Your husband's lips press heatedly against your own, and the tears finally spill over, because despite everything; you are scared.

Scared to lose everything that brought you happiness, everything you had built with him. If this war came to pass, your uncle would target the Hightower's with a quickness, your own son among them. You were emotionally dependent on Ormund, leaning on him like a spiritual figure of sorts.

You were terrified of what may now come.

You allow your husband to lay you in bed, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and you cry and sob into your pillow. Despite everything, your father was dead, and you had not allowed yourself to grieve him properly. As you cried yourself to sleep, Ormund pressed kiss after kiss to your knuckles and face, and ince yoyr cries subsided, he departed from the room.

Directing his attention to the knight standing guard at your door, he smiles.

"Bar the door until I return and do not let Lady Hightower leave her quarters."

oh to be his controversial young wife 💔

Technically.

Technically, Aemond had drunk himself silly during your wedding celebrations because he was so envious of his older brother. Aegon, for as long as Aemond could remember, had everything he wanted. You were no different.

Aemond could taste the wine on his tongue, a numbing sensation burning at his cheeks as he stalked through the hidden corridors of the Red Keep, his boots heavy against the old stone. He had learned of this passage the night of your wedding to his brother; he had been through many of the other passages throughout his youth, but stumbling upon Aegon's bedchambers had been like discovering silver and gold.

He had watched through a cracked door as Aegon fucked you for the first time. Aegon had been rutting into you like a dog in heat, and Aemond had to tune out the sounds of his brother's pathetic whines as he focused his one good eye on your body as you writhed on the sheets.

The whores Aegon had introduced Aemond to had been performative. Their sounds were too loud, too dramatic, whereas your sweet little cries had Aemond's inexperienced cock throbbing in his trousers as he watched from a distance.

Aemond had watched his brother with envy as your belly swelled with child, wishing that it was his babe instead of Aegon's. He thought he'd hate your children, but how could he when they wore your sweet face with every breath they took? Rhaelor, especially, with his big dark eyes and curls. Aemond could pretend that they were his, if only for a moment in his dreams.

You were so beautiful, even now as you watched over Aegon's burnt body. Aegon had yet to rouse from his coma, the smell of burnt flesh was enough to send the maids scattering, but you stayed in the room, your children (what was left of them) close by your side as you tended to the broken man that was your husband.

Maybe he liked haunting you, you thought.

"His Grace is lucky to have such a doting wife," Aemond says, a slight tilt to his lips when he sees you flinch.

Lucerys' death had caused a shift in your behavior, specifically towards Aemond. Luke was so young, an innocent child. Aemond had feasted on his body like a depraved creature of spite, and you couldn't deny the fear that lay in your bones whenever you looked at him, now.

A whimper leaves you as Aemond's nose presses into your hair, his hands pin your arms down on the bed where your unconscious husband lies. You sit still in the large chair as your brother-in-law traces the veins in your wrists with his fingers, teary-eyed as he prods himself further into your vulnerability.

You smell of cinnamon and bergamot, as you always have.

Aemond remembers the yearning he held as a boy, begging his mother to purchase scents that reminded him of you when you were away with your mother and her brood of bastards. He would smother himself in a pillow that he doused with your scent, dreaming of the moment you returned to Kings Landing, if only for a moment.

He had yearned for years until he had finally broken, his boyish crush turning into a smothering obsession, the longer you were married to your pathetic excuse of a husband.

You cry about Rhaelor and Vaella being asleep in their cradles as Aemond loosens his trousers, the fat head of his cock throbbing as he greedily takes in your smell. He shushed you, his fingers tremble slightly as he forces your hand around his cock.

"Shh, shh," Aemond coos, a slight shiver in his voice, a gasp leaves his lips as he moves your soft hand over his aching flesh. It's so soft, better than the whores he'd been using, and Aemond reaches up with his free hand to tug at his eyepatch. The leather drops in your lap, and you are forced to look your beloved brother's murderer in the eye as he humps himself into your hand.

"Aemond, please..." you beg him, and a guttural moan leaves his lips. His hips stutter and then start to thrust erratically; his free hand cups your face, forcing you to kiss him. Aemond scared you, and with your children already being in danger, you have no choice but to obey him. Aegon had promised to protect you and your babies, but Aemond had maimed him; you had no one to turn to.

So, you cry.

You cry as Aemond whimpers into your lips. You cry as his cock throbs, rivulets of his release creating a puddle in your lap. You cry when he kisses you harder as his orgasm rocks his body, soft gasps leaving him as he trembles. You cry when he tugs down the top part of your dress, his lanky body curling into your own as he begins to suckle at your breast like a deranged babe.

Aemond wanted to be loved by you, more than anything.

But he finds that you fearing him is much more rewarding.

Aegon being unknowingly cucked 😵‍💫

I suck at writing smut 💔

"Mount Silverwing and come to Harrenhall with me," your father had said, a clear grimace on his face, the look almost bitter as he stomped out of the Queen's chambers. You had just gotten back from Runestone, placing your eldest daughter in charge of your home until you returned. Silverwing was already feasting somewhere in the pit.

Before you could even reply, the Queen interrupted.

"No."

"No? If I wish for my daughter to join me in bwnding knees, that is what she will do."

Nevermind that you were a grown woman with two children, or that you were fully capable of making decisions for yourself.

"I need her and Silverwing here," Rhaenyra was quick in her words, her lips pressed together tightly as she stares at Daemon intensely. From the way they were looking at each other you couldn't know they were married.

They never spoke of you as a person, rather an object to be passed back and forth. You should have been used to it by now, but it couldn't be helped.

"Father," you say gently, your fingers meet his shoulder, your touch cautious. "It is possible that Aegon's faction could send someone to attack Dragonstone after the... incident. Allow me to watch over things here."

You watch as your father storms away, his frustration thick in the air. Caraxes soon departs from Dragonstone, and you nervously turn to look at your cousin - your Queen.

"Had I been born a man, it's possible that we would have been betrothed to each other, isn't that strange to think about?"

Considering she was married to your father, and you had no desire to lay with your own kin, it was quite the strange thought.

Later that night, Elinda had come to your chambers as you were seeing to Rhaena. Losing Luke had broken her thoroughly, and you wanted so badly to send her to Runestone. She would be safer there, happier. The seat of House Royce had passed to you after your mother's untimely demise, and you scarcely left. Your husband had died shortly after your twin girls were born, you had no intention of remarrying.

He was older, yes, but kind in a way you had always needed.

The only reason you left was to support the rightful heir, your cousin.

Rhaenyra had Elinda fetch you, and the two of you had been sipping at wine together for quite a bit of time.

"I doubt that very highly, Your Grace," you say with a gentle tone, careful not to illicit Rhaenyra's temper.

You were only slightly younger than her, but Rhaenyra had always been too bold. Whenever you would come to Kings Landing with your father she would drag you around the castle.

Usually to her room.

"Why do you doubt me? Have I ever lied to you, Sweet Girl?"

Your grip is tight on your glass as Rhaenyra shifts in her seat, the gentle burgundy of her nightdress glowing in the candlelight.

You should have went with Kepa.

"... I should head to bed now, Your Grace," you attempt to stand, the uneasy feeling you remember from back then was crawling up your spine like a deranged serpent.

An expression akin to rejection flashes on Rhaenyra's face, her eyes harden, and she stands.

Like a dragon circling her prey, your cousin grabs you by the wrist, her intense eyes scaring you half to death.

"I thought if I married him, you would be closer, but you never visit," Rhaenyra says quietly as she pushes you against the table. Her touch is gentle, but you shake under her anyway. "You are loyal, but only to your Queen."

"Stepmother."

Rhaenyra hikes up the velvety fabric of her nightdress, her bare cunt visible to your eyes as she keeps a single hand to your throat.

"Devour your Mūna," Rhaenyra gasps, climbing over your body, her dripping cunt leaking against your lips as you squirm beneath her. Rhaenyra grabs at your head, her hips swiveling against your mouth, forcing your tongue deep into her pussy. Her throbbing clit rubs at your nose, you are consumed completely by her. The table shakes under you as Rhaenyra rides your face, her free hand holding her dress up as she bounced on your face.

You have hot tears dripping down your cheeks, but you truly cannot tell the difference between them and the arousal that flowed from Rhaenyra's cunt.

You just want to go home.